As I mentioned earlier in this series, one of the reoccurring themes in the songs I write is where I am sorting the doubts of my faith.

I wish I could move past the thoughts I address in this song. Maybe one day I can, though I already know that in the end, it’s a matter of me accepting that I am not in control and there is no way to prove it either way while I am still alive.

In the end, I suppose there is ultimately a 50/50 chance of being right about my Christian faith. Despite the odds, despite my obsession with unpacking concepts through logic, I am choosing to believe:

I don’t know how to feel – I don’t know what to do with this – Will I be thrown in the sea with a millstone around my neck? I believe I have enough doubt for a Baptist preacher to leave the faith – Will I be thrown in the sea? Like Jonah, am I the problem? Is this how I touch the scars of Your hands and thrust my fingers in Your side? What’s it like to just not question things when a lack of logic is what I find? I’m St. Doubting Thomas – I’m hanging on, Lord – I promise – If I were God, which I’m not, would I make people in my own image, then set them up to fail with The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? In a spiritual sense, you could say I’ve got daddy issues – I feel like an abandoned child held over the flames of hell like a toasting marshmallow – I find this narrative odd – Is it the Wizard of Oz back there? It’s a cryptic riddle – We’re all trapped in the middle – Should I put reason to rest and pretend?